Map That Leads To You
by 00Fangirl
Summary: Alfred was a hero and heroes didn't break promises, but he is still young and the influence of alcohol knows no boundaries. When Alfred breaks his promise to Arthur, he jeopardizes not only his relationship but the sweet memories they once shared. As a hero, Alfred must do everything in his power to remind Arthur why he fell in love with him in the first place. AU (ON HIATUS)
1. Maps

**Hello There! I'm fairly new to the Hetalia fandom, so first off i'd like to formally apologize if the characters seem a bit OOC please leave any suggestions either in my inbox or in a review, also please point out any spelling errors and excuse my terrible grammar. Next, I wanted to say that this idea was originally going to be a one-shot but the more i wrote it the bigger the plot became and now it's just a vortex of ideas inside my brain and i want to get it out there. Um I think that's it for now... enjoy, don't kill me...  
The inspiration for this fic was partly based on a dream I had, and partly on the song Maps by Maroon 5, hence the name and the lyric below.  
**

**Oh and i found the cover image on google so if it belongs to someone you know please let me know so I can credit them on their magical drawing skills!**

* * *

_I like to think that we had it all_  
_We drew a map to a better place_  
_But on that road I took a fall_  
_Oh baby why did you run away?_

**Maps- Maroon 5**

* * *

Arthur shuffled awkwardly next to Alfred, giving his boyfriend a tight squeeze of the hand. Alfred ripped his gaze from the wooden door before him, a cloud of warm air escaped his slightly parted lips as he smiled down at the Englishman. The American returned the squeeze, rather painfully, and reached out for his rosy cheeks with his free hand.

"If you don't like it, we can leave…" Arthur bit his lip at the disappointment in Alfred's tone, but only shook his head in response. Alfred smirked and tugged on his boyfriend's chin, bringing their thin lips together.

The Englishman roughly pulled away when the locks clicked on the other side of the thick wooden door. His gaze landed on the bushes topped with snow and covered in a cheerful array of Christmas colored lights. He had managed to drown out Alfred's banter with whomever opened the door and only snapped back into his senses when Alfred tugged on his coat.

The crowded house cheered upon Alfred's entrance, giving his ego an unnecessary boost. People shouted greetings at the pair, of course most of them were directed toward the American, and a few hands shoved beers in their direction. Arthur shot him a nervous side glance and tugged on his sleeve.

Alfred's head snapped almost immediately in his direction, and he let out a low _hmm_ to show him that he was listening. "Don't drink too much you bloody twit." The stare the two held seemed to have a conversation of its own, reminding the taller man of past events, and Alfred nodded.

"As long as you don't, babe." Alfred joked as he placed a sweet, caring kiss on Arthur's forehead. The Brit blushed madly, but all too soon his boyfriend was dragged away by The Bad Touch Trio. _Such a moronic name for the three of them, they should've left it in high school._

Before long, Arthur found himself on the steps (the least crowded place in the house) slowly sipping on the foul tasting alcohol that resided in the clear cup. He swirled the yellowish liquid around the cup, paying more attention to it than the ruckus of the drinking contest in the kitchen. His eyes were then met with a hazel pair and a mop of brown hair.

"Ve~! Ciao, Arthur! I didn't think you would make it. I'm glad you did though, the party wouldn't have been the same without you! Grazie for coming! Where is Alfred? He's always stuck to you like glue." The Brit raised a thick eyebrow at the younger man and sighed, flicking his finger in the direction of the crowded kitchen. Feliciano frowned and took a seat at the base of the stairs, patting the carpeted step. Green eyes flickered once more toward the kitchen before Arthur huffed and plopped down next to the party's host.

* * *

Alfred's nose scrunched as he chugged down the beer in his hand. He made a face at the taste of the liquid, which did not go unnoticed by the red-eyed albino, and frowned when his eyes made contact with the gigantic metal keg placed on top of the marble counter top.

"Guys I can't, I promised-"Alfred was cut off by Gilbert, who started his sentence with a scoff.

"Scheiße_. _Don't tell me you've gone soft for the prissy Englishman." His breath smelled of pure beer, a sent that made Alfred cringe as he shrugged his was out of the Albino's grip. "Someone as awesome as me should have drinking partner like you!"

The crowd gathered in the kitchen let out a cheer, their beers up in the air, and drank to Gilbert's slurred speech. Alfred's eyes darted back toward the living area as his friend pushed him toward the keg.

"Oh, mon dure! Someone take the beer from his wretched hands!" The American was about to thank him before Francis pushed the sleeves on his sweater up to his elbows. "Besides, why have a drinking contest when you're already wasted?" A challenging smirk arose on the Frenchman's thin lips and Alfred frowned as he tried his hardest to push all the tempting thoughts aside. _You promised. Heroes don't break promises_.

"I really can't guys, I'm sorry!" He had finally managed to break free from whoever as keeping him in the kitchen and started pushing back through the crowd.

"C'mon, amigo. One round won't hurt you!" A half-drunk Antonio slurred as Lovino attempted to keep him from drinking, a string of curse words that were directed at the Spaniard leaving his lips. Alfred eyed the staircase, where his boyfriend sat in a full-fledged conversation with the hyperactive Feliciano, and sighed while his lip took residence under his teeth.

"I guess _one_ round won't hurt." Alfred muttered. The crowd responded with a loud roar while Gilbert climbed onto the counter and laid his elbows on the keg, tucking his head into his palms to avoid the hanging light.

"Let's get this awesome contest started!" _Don't break your promise, Alfred_.

. . .

One beer turned into five, which melted into fifteen, and molded into a whopping thirty before Alfred was declared the winner. Francis was emptying the potentially poisonous drink from his system and into the sink, while Alfred cheered and joined Gilbert on the counter. The two began to dance, quite ridiculously to be honest, and it wasn't soon until the German pulled his sweater off and began to swing it around his head.

Alfred laughed, louder and even more ridiculous than normal, and brought a shaking hand to the man. His name was chanted throughout the crowd and he shook his head at them as he repeated the phrase: _Arthur wouldn't like that._

The crowd began to boo, earning a frown from the dangerously drunk German on the counter. His sentence was too slurred to be understood, but one word was heard clear as day; _awesome._ He brought shaking hands to the hem of Alfred's sweater vest and the American did very little to protest, a side-effect of the excessive amount of alcohol that filled his body.

Gilbert pulled the garment off without a problem, but the drunken guests demanded for more. Alfred felt the demand in the atmosphere and winked at no one in particular as he slowly began to undo the buttons on his dress shirt. Wolf whistles filled the air and, once the shirt was off, so was his name.

In seconds, the crowd faded from cheering the word _Alfred_ and grew toward chanting _kiss, kiss, kiss! _Alfred shook his head, knowing that it would break Arthur's heart, and sat down. He tried to push himself off of the counter, but Gilbert grabbed his wrist before he could.

Another slur of drunken words meshed together was followed with the bitter taste of Gilbert's lips on Alfred's. The American shook in protest, as his eyes shot wide in panic, and tried to pull himself away, but Gilbert's hands were snaked into his blond hair, making it almost impossible. The sloppy drunken kiss wasn't over quick enough, and when it finished Alfred wiped the taste away with his arm. He had been too caught up in the events to notice the betrayal that hid behind glossy green eyes as his boyfriend pushed away from the crowd and toward the door.

* * *

Arthur panted as anger, betrayal, hurt, and shame flowed through his veins. He slammed the door shut, nearly knocking it off its hinges with the surprising force that was now present in his small boy, and stamped his way over to his car. His nostrils flailed as he struggled to bit back the salty tears that flowed from his eyes that showcased his defenselessness.

He tried to find at least a hint of just in his boyfriend's actions, but this time he couldn't find any. "Bloody hell, Alfred. You fucking promised! You incompetent arsehole, I trusted you!" His screams went unheard, masked by the music that blasted inside the walls of the Beilschmidt-Vargas household.

The wooden door was swung open and two heads revealed themselves to the angry Englishman. Arthur's frown only deepened when his eyes met Alfred's glassy, yet concentrated,gaze. He unlocked the car, got into the driver's seat, and drove off without another word.

Alfred, although completely wasted, decided to run after the fleeing car, only to find himself on his knees a few feet ahead. His hands roughly clawed at his blond hair as tears flowed diligently down his cheeks. _This is all your fault._ Alfred shook his head vigorously, not noticing when his glasses flew off the bridge of his nose and landed roughly on the pavement.

_You promised. _His eyes shut tight as he tried to bite back a frustrated scream. _He hates you. He's never coming back. You fucked up big time._ Alfred's thoughts only caused his sobs to become more rigorous and painful.

Two sets of footsteps came up behind him, but Alfred failed to notice. His internal battle had left him tired… tired and _numb. _He didn't even notice when Ludwig's strong arms tossed his body over his shoulders. He couldn't make out a single word that Feliciano was shouting at him or the vaguely familiar faces that crowded around him as he was taken upstairs and laid down on the guest bed.

Alfred sobbed into the soft pillow, his fearful hands gripping the item with his life. The small Italian frowned and shooed his husband out of the room as he took a seat across from the nervous wreck and slowly massaged circles onto his back. The small room was held together by the American's cries for a few minutes, until the tears shifted into attempts to straighten out his breathing pattern.

"He trusted me." Those words were the only ones that left his mouth, along with the constant muttering of Arthur's name, for the rest of that night. Feliciano tried to reassure him that Arthur was just acting on spite, that when they dropped him off the next morning he would be at their apartment waiting for him, that everything would be fine with the British man, but Alfred wouldn't listen, he knew that he had fucked up and this time there was no way to fix it.

. . .

The next morning, Alfred found himself well acquainted with the guest toilet as he poured all traces of the alcohol down the drain. When he was finished, he washed the taste away with a bit of mouthwash that was left on the sink for him, along with some pills and a glass of water. His headache usually took a while to kick in but he wasn't going to risk it. He drank the pills and frowned at his reflection.

What stared back at him wasn't the Alfred he knew. There was no sparkle in those big blue eyes, they were squinted and bloodshot with bags hanging underneath him. He was uncharacteristically pale and even though it had been less than twenty-four hours since he looked in a mirror, he looked thinner. His blond hair stuck in clusters around his face in some parts and stuck out wildly in others. For a second, he had forgotten the events of the previous night.

But that second was only a microscopic fragment of time and memories of the night before flooded his mind like a tsunami. The argument Arthur and him shared on their way to the party, the promise he made Arthur not to drink too much, the drinking contest, the _kiss_ (a horrid one at that), Arthur's look of pure hatred before he drove off. It was all too much for him, and anger boiled within him. Anger at himself, at his actions, at his immaturity. Before he could control his actions, his fist was lunged into the wall of the Beilschmidt-Vargas guest bathroom and a startled squeal was heard from the other side of the closed door.

"Ve, I came to check up on you, are you okay?" Alfred let out a long sigh and unlocked the door causing the Italian to take a few steps back. "Oh, Tesoro, you don't look too good."

Alfred nodded slightly and bit his lip. "C-Can you take me home, please?" Feliciano nodded and motioned for him to follow. Alfred took slow, careful footsteps and frowned upon seeing the condition that the house was in. Plastic cups and paper plates were thrown around the floor like decorations. Grease stained the recently painted walls and garbage was visible in every nook and cranny of the house. There was even someone passed out on the kitchen counter.

Feliciano looked back at him and Alfred shot him a weak smile. "Ludwig, I'll be back I need to take Alfred home." Almost like clockwork, Ludwig grunted and chucked the car keys at his spouse. Feliciano caught them and blew a kiss at him at which Ludwig responded with a deep chuckle. The Italian noticed the look on Alfred's face and sighed as he led him into the Jeep that was parked in the driveway.

"You know, we weren't always like that. Merda, we still have our fights and I've been through _that _one a thousand times." Feliciano referred to the current fight between Alfred and Arthur. Alfred raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Ve, I know hard to believe. No relationship is perfect and they all have their fights, but what's important is trust. You're still young, still growing, but Arthur had to grow up fast and even though he's only a few years older _physically_, he's way older _mentally_. He only wants what's best for you, and you're still in those experimental years."

Alfred stared at Feliciano in shock. He always used to think Feliciano was the clueless ditz that did nothing but sing and prance around immaturely. It was weird to see such a different side of him. "What…"

"Just reassure him that you'll always be there for him and that you –"

Feliciano was cut short by the sound of Alfred's cell phone. His heart beat quickened and his lips feel into a foolish grin as his eyes met the name. He quickly answered the phone, but before he could open his mouth a familiar string of curse words filled the silence.

"Idiot, is my brother with you?"

"Lovino? Where's Arthur?"

"…Just put my brother on the phone." Alfred's sudden high was cut short by the tone in the other man's voice.

"But… But he's driving. Just tell me!" Feliciano eyed him from the rearview mirror and Alfred mouthed his brother's name.

"Hospital… he's at the hospital… I managed to get my hands on his cellphone before… just get here Americano-bastard."

Alfred felt his phone slip from his fingertips as his body stiffened. He couldn't hear Feliciano demanding to know what happened, he didn't feel when his own fingers tugged roughly at his hairs. All he could manage was to whisper Arthur's name in despair. Feliciano abruptly stopped the car and grabbed Alfred by the shoulders. He contemplated his action for only a second before sending a slap across the American's cheek. It seemed to knock Alfred into reality, only for a second though, as he shouted one word at the top of his lungs. _Hospital_.

. . .

Feliciano didn't even have a chance to park the car before Alfred swung the door open and bolted toward the entrance. His eyes scanned around the crowded waiting room before they met with a mess of dark brown hair at the counter. He furrowed his eyebrows as he ran up to Lovino, grabbing the counter in a white-knuckle grip and breathing heavily.

"Where. Is. He?"

Lovino raised a challenging eyebrow ready to bark out an insult but when his gaze met Alfred's, his demeanor softened. "They pulled him into one of the emergency rooms…"

Alfred ripped his ones from Lovino's and searched for the directory on the wall. When his eyes spotted the words, he took off, weaving in and out of people's way and through a double door. He desperately searched for any sign of his boyfriend, running in and out of hospital rooms.

When his eyes landed on the glossy green eyes he had grown to know so well, his heart stopped. The strong metallic smell was explained with just one look. Arthur's face was nearly Unrecognizable with the amount of blood that coated his once pale face. His hair stuck wildly to his cheeks and was also drenched in that foul sticky substance.

"A-Arthur?" It started out as a whisper but then escalated into a series of shouts that caused the heart rate monitor to go crazy. "ARTHUR!" Police reinforcements were forced to hold Alfred back, pleading with him to calm down but Alfred wouldn't budge. "No! Arthur!" It took three men to pull the irrationally screaming man out of the room.

"No. No no no no no no no! You have to let me in there- I... He's... I have to see him!" Alfred wailed, his intense anger and devotion failing into a heap of tears and regrets.

One of the officers reassured him that everything would be fine and that they would call him as soon as they could. They escorted him back into the waiting room and asked him for his name before all too quickly leaving him alone. It wasn't for long though, because Feliciano scurried to his side the minute they dropped him off, and Lovino shot them a sorry glance from his place behind the counter.

Alfred didn't care who saw at that point. He wasn't a hero. Not to Arthur, not to himself, and definitely not to anyone else. He hated the feeling of helplessness that overcame him but he couldn't shake the image of his boyfriend from his head. It was his fault, all of it, and he couldn't help but to loathe himself for it.

Feliciano frowned at the pained expression on his friend's face and pulled him into a comforting embrace. Alfred desperately clung onto his shirt as the tears that ceased to stop flowed down his cheeks. The Italian rubbed circles onto his back and held him in the same position for over an hour until he finally cried himself to sleep.

Lovino took a seat next to his brother shortly after, it was his lunch break at the time, and frowned deeply. "I don't blame him. I'd do worse if it were Antonio." His tone was solemn and Feliciano only nodded in agreement. The two stayed quiet for a few minutes, aside from Alfred's light snores.

"Is there an Alfred Jones anywhere in this room?" That was the voice that cut through their silence like a knife as the eldest shot up and the youngest shook the sleeping man on his lap.

"He's here!" Feliciano shouted, and Alfred shot up from his lap muttering out the same two words.

The doctor made his way toward the trio and licked his lips. "Arthur Kirkland is who you're waiting on information for right?" The three nodded as one and the doctor sighed. There was a long and eerie silence before he talked again. "Good news: We managed to keep him alive. He's in a comatose state right now and we're not sure when he will wake up."

The trio let out a simultaneous sigh of relief before Alfred spoke up. "And the bad news?"

The doctor's eyes stayed firmly in contact with Alfred's as if to provide some comfort for the words he was about to say. "We don't know IF he will make it out alive or if he will even have any memory of his past. His head was hit pretty hard, it's a miracle that he's still breathing." That was enough to break his whole world.

* * *

**_Scheiße- _Shit in German, according to google, hopefully i used the right word?**


	2. A Daydream Away

**First off, I would like to thank MadamTea for her kind and helpful words :D (And also thaank you for my guest reviewer !)  
****Second, I am thinking about changing the name for this story, but I don't know what to change it to... I'll probably think of something during my next update.  
****Third, I decided to name each of the chapters after their song of inspiration. :D For now, I think that's it, enjoy!  
I do not own Hetalia, or the song posted below.**

* * *

_I wish you could see your face right now  
'Cause you're grinning like a fool  
And we're sitting on your kitchen floor  
On a Tuesday afternoon  
It doesn't matter when we get back  
To doing what we do  
'Cause right now could last forever  
Just as long as I'm with you_

**A Daydream Away- All Time Low**

* * *

"Hey buddy," Alfred started, his blue eyes glistening with determination. When he got no response, he smiled a bit and continued. "I miss you like crazy... everyone does..." Still no response, but what did he expect? Arthur had reached his third official month being comatose. After the first month the doctors ruled him to be in a persistent vegetative state. Sure there were times during the day when Arthur would have his eyes open, and it was becoming more constant, but the doctors saw nothing of it, all they said was that he was gradually recovering.

Alfred took a deep breath and shook his head. "I got you something, sweetheart." He chuckled lowly and sighed. "Happy Valentine's Day." The American grabbed the gifts that he left at the entrance of the room and brought them to the chair beside his. "...um. I guess I'll just describe you what I got." His breath had begun to shake as he grabbed the closest thing to him.

"I-uh... Made you a card. I know how much you love homemade stuff..." He set the card down on the small coffee table to his left and grabbed another gift. "Your favorite chocolates... From that store across the street from our apartment." Alfred bit back a shaky breath and laid the chocolates down on top of the card. "A bear... Because I took yours for myself... I even gave him a little cape so he can be your hero," he smiled sadly and gnawed on his lip. "... If you press his little paw, he talks..."

As hard as Alfred tried to conceal his feelings, his tears would easily betray him. He brought his trembling hand to the bear's paw and winced when it let out a childish giggle followed by the words: _I love you! _Alfred held back a whimper and made his way over to the Brit. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as he carefully laid the bear beside Arthur. He gave his boyfriend a quick peck on the lips and bit back his sob.

"Oh god, Artie. Get better soon, I need you."

Feliciano stood at the doorway and silently watched the scene unfold. A sad smile wavering on his lips as he tried his hardest to keep the tears from flowing, or making any amount of noise at all. He had promised Alfred he would wait in the hall, but he couldn't help himself. The young Italian had always been a sucker for romance.

A light knock was heard from behind the American and he quickly wiped away any evidence of his breakdown a few moments ago. Feliciano cocked his head a bit to the left and shot him a knowing glance. "We better get going. _Fratello_ is going to get mad at me if he gets another citation for letting people stay past visiting hours."

Alfred nodded and muttered a soft goodbye toward Arthur, then followed silently behind his friend. Feliciano handed the American his coat and watched him slip it on with a sad smile. Alfred didn't deserve it and neither did Arthur, but fate always found a way to stick its grimy hands where it didn't belong.

The pair passed the counter in the waiting room and said their goodbye's to Lovino, who just grunted and muttered something about Antonio being late, again. When the automatic doors flung open, they were hit with a blast of cool nighttime air. Alfred relaxed almost instantly and actually managed a genuine smile on their walk to the Jeep.

Feliciano had made it his responsibility to drive Alfred everywhere. Not only was his car completely totaled, Feliciano didn't trust him to drive around alone. Well it's not that he didn't _trust him_, he just didn't trust _his actions._ In the past three months there had been one too many close calls with Alfred. Feli even made sure to rid Alfred's apartment of anything sharp or alcohol related. He cringed as memories of the angered American filled his brain.

"You okay, Feli?" Alfred asked while his hands found a steady drumming pattern on his lap. Feliciano nodded and shot him a smile.

"Yeah, just thinking of this weird joke Ludwig made the other day… German's can be so… weird." He then shrugged and pulled out of the empty parking lot. The drive to the apartment, although short, was incredibly quiet and uncomfortable for the usually exuberant man. Alfred, on the other hand, didn't mind. His thoughts were elsewhere and paid no mind to the awkward tension in the car.

When they arrived at the apartment, only a few minutes later, the clock read nine-forty and Feliciano drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. It took Alfred a few minutes to realize that they had stopped and he began spitting out apologies, to which Feli merely giggled.

"No worries, just enjoy your night and stay safe." Alfred sighed and nodded knowingly as he stepped out of the car and searched his pockets for his keys. "Call me when you want me to come pick you up, okay? Make sure it's around lunch time so I can take you out to eat! Ve~! Pasta Saturday's are my favorite! See you then!" Alfred just nodded and chuckled lightly at the Italian's ramble as he waved him off.

After a few hesitant moments, Alfred unlocked the door and pushed it open as he frowned almost instantly. His apartment was a mess, granted it was from his most recent rampage. There was a hole in the wall, right above the loveseat whose cushions were scattered about the house. The coffee table was flipped over with everything that used to reside on top of it spread across the floor. Plastic plates and cups (because glass and ceramic plates were "_unsafe_") covered nearly every vacant space on the carpeted floor. The whole place was disgusting, Arthur would hate him if he saw it.

_Arthur_. He took a deep breath and scurried in the direction of the kitchen sink. The kitchen was probably the cleanest place in the entire apartment, aside from Arthur's side of their shared bedroom. In the cabinet under the sink, Alfred pushed aside various cleaning products and bleaches before sighing in relief. He pulled out a bottle of wine that was tucked into the very back of the cabinet and brought it close to himself and took a seat on the tile.

"Thank _God._" He pulled the cork off of the bottle and wiped away the top with the sleeve of his dress shirt. He then pressed the bottle to his lip and tilted his head back, letting the sweet liquid temporarily fill the void of his numbly beating heart.

* * *

_Alfred laid down the final box and dusted off his hands. Ripping his gaze away from the novel in his hand, the British man quirked an eyebrow at him and smirked. "All _that_? Did you pack all of bloody America, Alfred?" His eyes landed on the twelve boxes that now took up his- or should he say- their living room._

_The man in question chuckled but shook his head. "No, dude. This is just all the stuff that's most important to me." _

_"That's bollocks!" Arthur muttered as he set his novel down and pushed himself up from the seat. "I offer you an apartment, full of furniture- very nice furniture at that- and you show up with boxes upon boxes of…" He stopped mid-rant and pursed his lips at the younger man, who brought a nervous hand to the back of his neck and let out an equally nervous chuckle. _

_Alfred licked his lips and avoided the amused stare that the Englishman was giving him. "Comic books." Arthur said in monotone as he pointed at the box that stood his height. "Action figures." He pointed at the one below it. "Horror Movies." And the one under that. "Comedies." A small box to the right of the stack. _

_"_Well,_ you see… what had happened was…" Alfred tried to explain himself but was stopped by Arthur's finger pressed to his lip. The shorter man was not looking at him, his gaze was set on the box that seemed so isolated from the rest. The first box Alfred had brought in. Alfred's cheeks flushed a deep crimson and Arthur smirked at the warmth that his face was releasing. _

_The box was marked in Alfred's rushed chicken scratch making it almost illegible, but they both understood it perfectly. "Why does that box have my name on it?" Arthur asked, his green eyes locked with Alfred's blue ones. The American muttered something under his breath and Arthur raised an eyebrow. "If you don't tell me I can easily take a peak."_

_Alfred smiled bashfully and cocked his head to the side. "Go ahead," he replied as he crossed his arms across his chest. Arthur's lips fell into a thin line as he walked in the direction of the box. He sat across from it and pulled it closer to his body. His hand trailed across the top and lingered for a few seconds before he opened the box with absolute care. _

_Arthur's eyes almost seemed to sparkle as he reached in and grabbed the item at the very top. It was a baseball? "It was from the time I tried to teach you to play baseball, dude." Alfred mumbled as he grabbed the ball from Arthur's hand and sat with his back against the wall. He tossed the ball back and forth between his hands and smiled at Arthur's shocked expression. _

_"You-… You kept that blasted thing?" Arthur finally asked after a minute of silence. _

_Alfred responded with a warm smile and a nod. "Why wouldn't I? I keep everything you give me, the box has your name on it for a reason, man." His tone made it seem like it was the most obvious thing in the world. _

_Arthur was at a loss for words, he honestly thought that the American would've tossed everything aside. Sure, Arthur kept everything Alfred had given him, but it seemed so odd to think that Alfred would do the same. The Englishman fought the smile that was tugging at his lips and earned a chuckle from Alfred. _

_"Aw, I should do things like this more often, you're cute when you blush." That snapped Arthur back into his senses and his small, clenched fist met Alfred's muscular arm. _

_"Belt up, twit. I am not." He muttered as he pushed himself up from the floor and tried his best to hide the growing blush on his cheeks. He stormed off toward the kitchen followed by his chuckling boyfriend. Alfred sat himself on top of one of the kitchen counters and kicked his feet out in a childlike manor. Arthur rolled his eyes while he took a seat in front of the counter that held up the sink. "If you're going to act like a child, I might as well treat you like one…" he teased. He opened the small wooden door and pulled out a bottle of wine. "Feliciano came by earlier and gave it to me. I guess I'm drinking it alone since apparently I'm living with a nine year-old." _

_"Nineteen, almost twenty." Alfred corrected with a playful glare. "I'm too young to drink regardless, so I don't care, dude."_

_Arthur scoffed. "Like that's ever stopped you, nitwit. Now go get me two glasses from the cabinet." _

_Alfred rolled his eyes and muttered something about Arthur being bossy, while Arthur struggled to pull off the cork of the bottle. The American chuckled and sat the wine glasses down on the tiled flooring and snatched the bottle from the older man. Within seconds, the bottle was opened and he had begun to pour the wine into the glass. "You know, for someone who gets wasted as often as you do, I'm surprised you still can't open a bottle of wine without a corkscrew." _

_Arthur furrowed his thick eyebrows and huffed as he took the glass closest to him and took a sip. "Hardy har har, you're so bloody funny." He spat sourly and glared at the glass in his hand. _

_"I'm _hilarious_, dude." Alfred noticed the small pout that his boyfriend held and smiled. It wasn't often that the brit pouted, but when he did… "Yo, Artie."_

_Arthur shot him a side glance and sighed. "Don't call me that." _

_"Whatever, Artie." He repeated, knowing it would rile him up. _

_"What do you want, Alfred?" Arthur knew there was no way to stop him once he started. Alfred smirked and slid closer to Arthur, who failed to notice the distance decreasing between them. After a few seconds of silence, Arthur spoke up again. "Alfred, what do you-"_

_"You." Alfred whispered, his eyes never leaving the, now stammering, British man. He let a deep chuckle escape his lips as his boyfriend visibly stiffened at their sudden closeness. Then, he placed a soft, innocent kiss on his boyfriend's lips and smiled. "That's what I want."_

* * *

There was a loud, incessant banging coming from the front door and Alfred let out a low growl. He grudgingly rolled over, only to be met with a face full of wooden cabinet. "Fuck!" He huffed out as he sat up and rubbed his forehead. He had a killer headache and every step he took shot a sharp pain through his body.

"Ve~ Alfred open the door! I have great news!" Feliciano shouted as he continued to bang his fist on the door. "Alfred~!"

"Dude, calm down, I'm coming!" Alfred shouted back while he rubbed his eye with one hand and opened the door with the other. Feliciano clapped his hands together and opened his mouth to talk, but then frowned when his eyes landed on Alfred.

His eyes were bloodshot and adorned with dark bags. He was in the same button up as the night before, except now it was stained with a bit of wine. He looked like a total wreck. "Maybe you should shower first and then I'll tell you…" He mumbled. Alfred frowned and shut his eyes in attempt to calm his headache down a bit.

"Just tell me now, dude." His tone showed a hint of annoyance, but Feliciano didn't seem to mind.

"Well… I got a call from Lovino at around midnight and I've been trying to get a hold of you all morning. Why haven't you picked up your cell phone?" Alfred took a deep breath and pulled out his iPhone, only to find that it was out of battery. He showed the phone to Feliciano who nodded in understanding. "Ve. But anyways, he called me and told me that the doctors are baffled because out of nowhere Arthur started to respond, they even got a few words out of him. Dylan and Peter are there now, and their parents should be there soon-"

"Are-… Are you serious?" Alfred asked. His grogginess seemed to melt off almost instantly when Feliciano nodded and squealed. Alfred's lips burst into a huge smile as he brought the younger man into a tight hug. "This is fucking amazing, dude, let's go."

Feliciano scrunched his nose and shook his head. "We're not leaving until you wash up, Alfred. You smell disgusting, do you really think Arthur would-" Before the Italian could finish, Alfred huffed and ran off toward the shower.

. . .

Alfred hadn't stopped babbling since the pair left the apartment and Feliciano couldn't have been more thrilled to see the American acting the way he used to. He was going on and on about how he was going to prove to Arthur that he had changed, even though Feliciano knew it wasn't true (he had seen the mess Alfred had left, but decided against opening his mouth about it).

When they arrived at the hospital, however, the conversation had drifted away from the things he was going to do and toward the things he _hadn't_ done. He voiced his worries and Feliciano simply nodded, listening intently to every word that left his mouth. Lovino shot the pair a fabricated smile as they passed by the counter to get their visitors passes.

The closer they got to the room, the more Alfred began to freak out and it wasn't long until Feliciano had to help calm his breathing down. "In… and Out… In… and Out…" Alfred mimicked his friend's breathing and calmed down a bit. "Good job. Now, everything is going to be just fine! I told you, the doctor said it was a miracle, be grateful this is happening!"

Alfred took in one last deep breath and nodded. He told himself he was ready and continued their, now seemingly dragged out, trip to Arthur's room. Feliciano and Alfred shot each other strange looks when they got to the hallway of Arthur's room. Outside of the door, Dylan and Peter were in heated argument about which one of them was going in to see Arthur next while Mr. Kirkland struggled to keep his sons calm.

Neither of them noticed Feliciano and Alfred and it wasn't until Mr. Kirkland called Alfred over that the two stopped their bickering. Dylan shot Alfred a strange look as he fixed his tie and brushed the invisible dust from his shirt. Peter, on the other hand, ran away from his older brother and clung onto Alfred's leg.

"Alfie! Thank _God_ you're here! Dylan was telling me that he has a bigger right to see Arthur first since he's twenty-six and I'm only twelve!" Alfred chuckled and ruffled the young boy's hair. "Tell him that he's wrong. Go on, tell him!"

Alfred shrugged and Dylan scoffed. "It's _moronic_ for him to think that he can see Artie first, I've lived twenty-four years of my life with Artie, and it's only fair that I see him first." Peter left his spot on Alfred's leg to start arguing with his older brother once more. Feliciano smiled, completely unfazed by their childlike behavior, and followed Alfred over to Mr. Kirkland.

"Alfred, so nice to see you again." He commented as he firmly shook his hand. Alfred flashed an award winning smile and Mr. Kirkland chuckled. "I haven't seen you smile in months. It's nice to see how easy our spirits can be lifted with wonderful news like this."

"Arthur always managed to make me smile, even in the darkest of times, sir- I mean, Oliver." Alfred corrected himself when Oliver raised his eyebrow.

"Thank you for remembering, there's no need to be so formal, you're family, lad!" Alfred only blushed at the comment and watched as Feliciano introduced himself to Oliver.

The two quickly faded into a conversation of their own and left Alfred alone and in his thoughts. He twiddled his thumbs as he tried to push all the nagging anxieties away. Things such as: _What if Arthur hates me? _or _What if Arthur never wants to see me again? _Filled his thoughts and he could feel his self—confidence disintegrating.

The door to Arthur's room clicked open and the hallway went silent. Alfred's eyes shone with hope as Mrs. Kirkland exited the room, but the hope quickly faded when he was met with only the ghost of a smile on her lips. Dylan took this as the perfect time to slip into the room, leaving Peter fuming in a corner with his arms crossed over his chest.

The older women plopped her body down onto the plastic chair in-between her husband and Alfred and let out a long sigh. Her soft eyes flickered toward Alfred and she took his hand in hers then smiled. "He didn't speak much, but his eyes would flicker towards where I was and he occasionally muttered my name." She took a shaky breath and rested her head of light blonde hair on her husband's shoulder. "We only have God to thank for this beautiful miracle." She gave Alfred's hand a tight squeeze. "Why didn't you go after me, sweetheart? It must be so frustrating having to wait."

Alfred was seconds from answering, before Peter walked over from the side of the door and took a seat on his mother's lap. "Jerk-face Dylan, that's why." He muttered under his breath, earning a light slap on the side from his father.

"Language, boy."

Peter _hmph-ed _and crossed his arms again. "I didn't want to get in between the brotherly love these two share." Alfred joked.

Mrs. Kirkland smiled warmly. "Peter, honey. You don't mind letting Alfred go before you right?"

Peter glared at Alfred, but directed his glare toward the door just as Dylan walked out. "That loser fell asleep. The nurse said that we're going to have to wait a couple hours to see if he wakes up again, and after they feed him and all that they are going to let the next person see him." His gaze then flickered toward Alfred. "You gave him that bear, right?"

Alfred started dumbly at the auburn-haired man in front of him for a second before he nodded. Dylan's lips twitched into a smile and he pulled out his phone. He tossed it at the American, who caught it with no problem, and smirked at the blush that flooded Alfred's cheeks. "Pass it around, I want to see!" Mrs. Kirkland demanded after she gave up trying to peak over Peter's shoulder.

"Calm down, Grace. Let him fawn over the picture a little longer." Mrs. Kirkland frowned at her eldest son's use of her first name, only to smile a few seconds later when Peter pressed the phone to her face.

"_Aww! _This is so_ precious_!" The picture really was precious. Arthur looked like he was sleeping, _actually_ sleeping. He was on his side and the bear was cuddled into his chest; he almost looked like a little kid. After everyone had seen the picture, Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland said their farewells (dragging a protesting Peter along with them) and headed off, leaving Dylan, Feliciano, and Alfred in awkward silence.

Dylan ran a hand through his messy, hair and sighed. "You know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Alfie." He started. His comment was what broke the awkward silence and brought both Feliciano's and Alfred's eyes upon his own. He chewed on his bottom lip for a second and directed his gaze to the ceiling before he began again. "Arthur is better, yes, but he is not _well_. He didn't recognize dad at all, and I know for sure he had his doubts about who I was, it's only safe to say that _maybe…_"

Alfred knitted his eyebrows together and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew how that sentence was going to end… _maybe he doesn't remember who you are_. "Arthur loves me, I _know _he won't ever forget me." Dylan let out a huff and shook his head all before grabbing his coat from behind the chair and storming off without another word. Alfred licked his lips and stared at Feliciano, his eyes glossy. "Right?"

Feliciano swallowed the lump in his throat and offered him a small shrug. Alfred took a deep breath and intertwined his fingers with his hair. Everything would be absolutely perfect if Arthur remembered him… but this world isn't perfect, neither was Alfred and _that_ was what brought worry to his mind.

* * *

**Once again, let me know if you spot any spelling errors and I will gladly fix them and please pardon my horrid grammar.**

**Also! I was originally planning on having Scotland and Ireland in this fic as well, but for some reason they didn't seem to fit what I wanted so I just kept Wales (Dylan) and Sealand(Peter) as Arthur's brothers. Oliver(Mr.) and Grace(Mrs.) Kirkland aren't really based off of any countries, I just wanted Arthur to have a Maternal and Paternal figure, and since I couldn't find anything on google, I just kinda made them up!**

**Hope you guys liked it ! :D**


	3. What Hurts The Most

**Hey guys! I'm back! And stressing because I start school in less than three weeks... at least it's my last year! (Until college)**

**Anyways there's not much to say, this chapter has a lot of brotherly moments, and a threw in a bar scene because i wanted to lighten up the mood for a bit (It was inspired by this picture i saw that basically said "Imagine Matthew swears a lot but nobody can understand because it's in French and he'd be like _what the fuck was that_ and you'd hear a horrified french gasp in the background like "MATTHEW!"")**

**Also, If you judge my music choice for this chapter, I will personally tell Ivan to come after you in your sleep o.o (It was one of my favorite songs as a kid, belt up, okay? *cries*)**

**As always let me know of any errors!  
**

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I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out  
I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while  
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me  
There are days every now and again I pretend I'm OK  
**What Hurts the Most; Rascal Flats**

* * *

. . .

The hallway stayed quiet for hours. Doctors would whiz in and out of the room to check on Arthur and would constantly reassure Alfred that all he needed was some rest and he should be up in no time, but other than that, it was silent. Feliciano had gone home and said he would visit later on, but also said he sent someone to take his place... that had been over an hour ago.

Alfred sat with his legs crossed on the plastic chair whilst he stared intently at the door in front of him. He could feel his body begging for sleep as his head bopped back and forth, but he couldn't give in. What he craved more than anything was to be awake when he was allowed to see Arthur.

His eyes would shut but just as quickly they would spring open. He yawned repeatedly and even changed his position so that he was lying across three chairs instead of just sitting on one. Alfred knew that his body would deceive him and that pretty soon he would be out cold on the stiff plastic chairs.

He heard rushed footsteps come from the end of the hallway and sat up (only then did he realize that he had drifted into a short nap). He eyes were met with two figures, one storming toward him, taking unnecessarily loud footsteps, while the other was being pulled by the collar and sort of awkwardly fumbled behind. Alfred let a weak smile escape onto his lips when the two were standing in front of him.

"He was standing in the same spot for thirty minutes, _THIRTY_!" Lovino huffed when he let go of Matthew's shirt. "Who stands in the same place for that _fucking_ long doing absolutely nothing but messing with their stupid fingers?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow at the annoyed Italian and chuckled. "Who stares at someone doing the same thing for thirty minutes?" Lovino opened his mouth to protest, but when nothing came out he muttered the word _jerk_ and stormed off, his face glowing redder with every step.

Matthew stood by the wall as he giggled at the scene before him. "Thanks, Alfie. That was pretty funny."

"No problem." Alfred chortled. He watched his younger brother take a seat beside him and smiled at the white take-out bag in his hands. "Is that for me?" Matthew rolled his eyes at his brother's gluttony and nodded. He handed Alfred the bag and watched him nibble on the burger before him.

"Are you alright?" He asked. "Sorry if it's cold… I stood there for thirty minutes…" He knew it had been a stupid question to ask, but Alfred wouldn't tell him otherwise. The elder of the two sighed and sat the hamburger in its wrapper.

His face was stuffed into his hands and he groaned and shook his head. "I'm going to see Arthur soon… alive and well…"

Matthew raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Isn't that a good thing?"

Alfred let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding and clenched his jaw. "I… Don't get me wrong, I'm so fucking hyped to see him again, dude… but Dylan's words haven't left my head." Before Matthew could ask, Alfred continued. "He said that Arthur didn't remember his father and barely remembered him… I've been reading up on some of the _side-effects_, you could say, of a car-crash and how it can affect the patient and one of them is amnesia..."

Matthew blinked a few times and frowned softly when he realized that his older brother was broken down in silent tears. He pulled Alfred into his warm embrace and gulped when his brother clung onto his hoodie. It reminded him of the last time he had seen Alfred so broken, and he hated it… He whispered calming words at him brother as he softly stroked and ruffled the American's hair.

Mathew felt terrible about the entire thing… he hadn't even been in town when_ the Arthur incident_ happened, heck he hadn't even been in the _country_. He was fulfilling his dream of touring the world while his older brother's dreams were being ripped away from him. He had found out about the incident a month after and took the first flight to America. He had been with him every so often, when Feliciano had been too busy to play mom for him, but never once had his brother broken down like he was doing right then and there.

In the midst of their brotherly moment, one of the nurses exited Arthur's room and informed them that Arthur was awake and accepting visitors. Alfred almost instantly perked up, after he wiped any trace of sadness off of his face, and stood tall. He took slow, gentle steps toward the door and froze.

Alfred took a deep breath and slowly reached his trembling hand out to grab the doorknob. He could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest and the beads of sweat begin to form in his shaking hands. His head shot back to his younger brother, whose violet eyes shone with reassurance as he shot him a thumbs up. Alfred nodded and squeezed the doorknob one last time before he softly pushed the door open. He bit his lip and stuck his head through the small amount of space he had cracked open. He swallowed the lump in his throat when he was greeted with a cold stare, but still managed to step inside of the room.

He winced when the door shut and let a loud echo ricochet around the, almost completely quiet, room. The heartbeat monitor beeped with a safe and perfect rhythm, one that would've brought joy to Alfred's heart any other day, but he could only assume what the regular pace of his heartbeat meant.

After another painfully long minute of silence, Alfred shuffled his feet and ripped his gaze away from the window and toward the hospital bed. "...hey..."

Arthur stared up at the blond in confusion. The staff had informed him of someone who had waited for months to see him again... That was not the attitude of someone who had wasted months of their lives waiting for someone to wake. He mustered up his strength and waved his hand up in acknowledgement.

"How... How are you feeling?" Alfred asked, his tone small and slightly broken. There was no shine in Arthur's eyes like there was before, nothing that hinted even the least bit amount of remembrance and it _killed_ him.

"Fine... Tired... Hungry." The three words were muttered within seconds of each other and Alfred nodded. He glanced at the food tray that was laid on a small wooden desk beside Arthur. It consisted of a glass of water, a clear cup of various fruits, and a silver platter with a lid on top.

Arthur's eyes followed Alfred's graze and he smiled. He had been awake for a total of six hours (all together) and he already knew that underneath the lid lay something for himself to eat. His body was still too weak to reach for it, or even feed himself, but when his eyes lingered a little longer than necessary, Alfred took the hint and chuckled.

"I'll feed ya, puddin'. Give me a sec." Alfred let the cheesy pet name escape his lips and caused Arthur to furrow his brows in a questioning manor.

"...puddin'?"

Alfred stopped what he was doing and stared at Arthur, his eyes glossy. "Uh... Yeah. It's just a little something I call everyone... No big deal." His voice had cracked, and he was pretty sure Arthur had heard it, but the Englishman looked more caught up in getting food than on speech patterns.

Alfred took a deep breath in attempt to rid his body of the emptiness that nagged him, and took a seat on the edge of the bed with the fruit bowl in his hand. Arthur's eyes lit up at the food and Alfred could only chuckle at the smile that filled his thinning face as he pressed a strawberry to Arthur's lips.

The Brit bit down on the fruit and chewed slowly, careful not to overdue anything. The doctors had told him that it was miracle that he had remembered how to eat, and he wasn't going to take that for granted. He swallowed the fruit and stared at the man at his side, whom was lost in deep thought. He stayed quiet as he watched the man's eyebrows knit together and his facial expression darker, all before he shook his head and fed Arthur another fruit.

"Your name?" Arthur questioned when he finished chewing on the grape Alfred had given him. The American look up at the Brit, eyes wide and glossy with his lips slightly parted, but sighed and replied lowly.

"Alfred Jones." His tone was unintentionally sharp, and he tried to make up for it by popping another grape into Arthur's mouth. Arthur stared at him in disbelief, but continued to chew on the fruit.

"How do you-"

"Know you?" Alfred asked before he could finish. Arthur nodded and Alfred sighed. He pushed another fruit into Arthur's mouth and chewed on his lip. "We met at a bar, you were completely shitfaced, and I was under aged. I had managed to sneak myself in and every time you would order a drunk, you'd be too wasted to drink it so I drank them instead. After that we were basically inseparable."

Arthur let out a weak chuckle and let his lips fall into a smile. Alfred mimicked his actions and offered his boyfriend another fruit, but Arthur shook his head no and turned to face him. He was much more interested in the stories the American had to tell.

"Really?" Alfred nodded. "How long ago-?"

"Three years." He answered before he could finish the question. Arthur let a soft _ahh_ escape his lips. He studied Alfred for a few more minutes and sighed, catching his gaze in an instant. Their gazes locked and Arthur's breathed hitched while the heartbeat monitor recorded the skipped beat that they both shared. Arthur never thought it would be so easy to get lost in someone's eyes, while Alfred thought he'd never find himself staring lovingly into his green eyes again.

Arthur felt like the whole world stood still for them in that moment, but it was put to an end all too quickly when a panicked nurse burst through the door. Her demeanor softened when she saw Arthur alive and well. She asked what had happened and Alfred apologized for "making Arthur laugh too hard." She flashed a knowing smile at the two and nodded. She began to write her information on the whiteboard and the pair stared at each other and then quickly diverted their eyes to her.

Alfred tried to let his growing blush fade before he turned back to Arthur, whom offered a small smile. "I-uh… Um... I'm going to go now… I've got work… and stuff…" He began to back out of the room and fumbled over a few of objects in the room before he finally reached the door, uttered another goodbye, and slammed it shut.

After Alfred left the hospital room he hadn't uttered a word to Matthew. He just walked off, which caused Matthew to jerk out of his seat and follow behind. When he caught up, he grabbed his older brother by the wrist and tugged him over to his car. When the two got in the car, Matthew noticed Alfred's pained expression.

"I know I shouldn't be doing this, because if Feliciano found out, he would kill me, but do you want to go for a drink?" Alfred's eyes narrowed at his brother; Matthew wasn't even twenty-one yet. "In Canada, the legal drinking age is nineteen, I know how to handle my liquor… and besides, it's not for me it's for you." Alfred shut his eyes and took a deep breath, but nodded.

. . .

"I miss him, I really miss him, dude." Alfred whined for about the hundredth time that night. Matthew sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, I know buddy… I know." Matthew toyed with the straw of the non-alcoholic beverage he had ordered as he thought of how he was going to manage getting his drunk brother home. _I should've just bought some beers from the store and invited him over._

The bar they were currently at was fairly local, everyone who lived close enough traveled, but mainly because they always had pretty big events. Sometimes, well-known singers would stumble into the bar and end up preforming, other times the owner hosted karaoke nights and the regular customers would make complete fools of themselves. It was basically just a big party for everyone far and wide, so it didn't come as a shock to either of them when the booth they sat at suddenly gained two people.

"Oh, _mon deiu_," Francis huffed as he struggled to hide his face behind a menu, and playfully pushed Matthew to the wall with his hips. The Canadian's cheeks flushed and Gilbert chuckled from his place beside Alfred. "Save me from this second-hand embarrassment!"

"I mean absolutely no offense when I ask this, but why are you guys _here_?" Matthew asked, referring to the table they were at and not the actual bar.

Francis frowned and turned to face him, fake hurt written on his features. "And here I thought you were such a nice person, Matthew. Why won't you help me in my time of need, _mon cher_?" Matthew's gaze then drifted toward Gilbert who crossed his arms and chuckled.

"We came here to have an awesome time, but Antonio's dumbass invited his boyfriend, thinking that he wasn't going to show up, but he did, and now he's going to take his wasted ass up on stage and sing to the man. Pretty pathetic, ja?"

"I wish my dumbass boyfriend did that for me." Alfred slurred and stuffed his face into his hands and slumped into the booth.

"Don't mind him, he's drunk… but did you just say that _Lovino_ is here?" The German nodded and Francis muttered the word _Oui_. "_Putain de merde!_" Matthew whispered as he looked around. "If he finds out I took Alfred to a bar, he'll tell Feliciano." Francis sat in shock at Matthew's curse and Gilbert laughed at the two. "Guys, it's not funny. Feliciano is terrifying when he is mad…"

"We must be talking about two different Italians because little Feliciano is anything _but _terrifying."

Just as Gilbert finished his sentence, Matthew's eyes went wide and he slipped his body under the table, dragging Alfred down with him. Alfred was about to protest but Matthew brought a cold hand to cover his mouth and pressed his finger to his lip. Both Gilbert and Francis stuck their heads under the table, and when they were going to ask what came over them, they heard the happy humming coming closer as a loud German accent boomed throughout the bar in attempt to stop the Italian.

"Ve~ Francis, fratello, Ciao! Nice seeing you here! Where is Antonio, he is usually with you, no?" Feliciano greeted when he finally reached their table. Francis cleared his throat and eyed Gilbert who just shrugged.

"He was being un-awesome today and left us to hang out with your brother." Feliciano _ahh_-ed in understanding and smiled.

"Wasn't there somebody with you? I could've sworn there were four of you at the table…" Matthew's eyes shot open and he tried to steady his heavy breathing. His older brother just stared at him as he tried to keep his eyes from shutting.

"I-I… uh…" Gilbert shot the stuttering Francis a sharp glare and kicked his shin under the table, also managing to step on Matthew's fingers in the process. Both of the men let out pained huffs and Matthew tried his hardest to keep from screaming.

"Antonio and Lovino were just with us, you see… they left toward the back because Antonio wanted to sing for your bruder, but I thought it wasn't awesome enough for me to go and Francis stayed with me." Feliciano raised an eyebrow at Gilbert, but when he heard the familiar Spaniard's voice fill the bar, he grabbed Ludwig's hand and dragged him toward the stage.

"Okay, they're gone –thanks to my awesome self- you might want to get out while you can." Gilbert teased as he helped the drunken American out from under the table. Knowing very well that Matthew couldn't do it, he picked Alfred up and swung him over his shoulder as he followed behind Francis and Matthew. When they reached Matthew's car, Gilbert secured Alfred into the car and shut the door.

. . .

Matthew huffed when he finally settled his older brother into his bed. The Canadian walked into his kitchen and pulled his bottle of maple syrup out of the freezer, setting it on the counter as he began to make himself a cup of coffee. It had been a long and stressful day, for both his brother and himself. He was ready to drink his maple coffee and slip into a blissful sleep.

After he finished his coffee, Matthew cleaned up and walked back into his room to find that Alfred was wide awake on the bed. "Hey, how was your nap, eh?" He asked as he pulled two pairs of pajamas out from the drawer and tossed one at Alfred.

The brothers quickly changed and Alfred sighed. "I… I can't believe he doesn't remember me." Matthew's eyes widened at the words that left Alfred's mouth. He hadn't told him what had happened in the room, so Matthew only assumed that the two had a fallout, but he would've never imagined that.

Soft sobs left the American's lips and he soon found himself in a warm, maple smelling, embrace. He hated feeling so _weak_, so _vulnerable_, so_ alone._ Sure, he had his brother, but Matthew could only stay at his side for so long, and he couldn't make him feel the way Arthur did.

"This is all my fault…" Alfred cried and pulled Matthew in for a tighter hug. "I'm no hero…"

Matthew's eyes watered at his brother's words and he shook his head. "Alfred, don't say things like that! Just because things aren't going your way doesn't mean you should just give up!" Matthew grabbed Alfred by the shoulders and shook him. "The thing about a hero, is even when it doesn't look like there's a light at the end of the tunnel, he's going to keep digging, he's going to keep trying to do right and make up for what's gone before, just because that's who he is. –Joss Whedon."

Alfred's sniffles began to calm down under his brother's words… Mattie had always been the wiser of the two, and he definitely had a way with words… He finally tore his eyes away from the sheets and met his brother's warm smile. "You mean that, Mattie?"

"Course I do, Al." Alfred smiled and wiped the damp tears from his face… even growing up Alfred could count on Matthew to make him feel better. The eldest held the youngest in a hug and the two chuckled. "Promise me one thing?"

Alfred pulled away from the hug and cocked his head to the side, his blond hair just brushing the tip of his nose. "What is it, dude?"

"Promise me you'll never give up… especially not on Arthur…"

Alfred sighed and his shoulders slumped. "I know this is going to be hard… but I promise!"

"Great…" Matthew said with a yawn. "Now go to bed? It's three in the morning ya douche!" Alfred rolled his eyes and playfully pushed his younger brother as he tucked himself under the covers. _Ahh just like old times_.

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**Ju likely, no? :D  
Anyways that's besides the point! the _REal_ point i wanted to make is that I am thinking about uploading another fanfic,  
It will be fem!englandxAmerica and it will be called _Let's Fabricate_... but i don't know if I should wait till later to upload it, cause I already have the first chapter and i''m really excited to see what you guys think! So let me know in the comments if you'd read it/would like me to publish the first chapter!_  
_**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, you all make me smile so much! Hugs and kisses! 00Fangirl out! **


	4. Stay

**Hello guys! I'd like to start off by saying a huge thank you too all of you, just because! Thank you all for being you! -This has been a PSA**

**I have written a (mainly) Arthur-centeric chapter that will be two parts long, enjoy!**

**As always, let me know of any spelling errors :D**

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_We say goodbye in the pouring rain_  
_And I break down as you walk away._  
_Stay, stay._  
_'Cause all my life I've felt this way_  
_But I could never find the words to say_  
_Stay,_ stay.

**Stay; Hurts**

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Part One_  
_

Arthur stared longingly out of the third story window. Even though he hadn't been mentally awake for most of it, he hadn't been outside in almost four months, and he _craved _the sunlight. He brought his free hand to the glass and drew circles on it with his index finger.

It had been two weeks since he had woken up and one week since he was deemed well enough to do basic everyday activities by himself; such as walking, eating, and bathing. The doctors were flabbergasted with the short amount of time Arthur needed to recover, but they still wanted to keep him under surveillance for a few more days.

The doctors had diagnosed him with a serious case of Post-Traumatic Retrograde Amnesia, which basically meant that he could remember general knowledge, and things that happened years prior to the incident, but he could not remember the incident itself and he also had a hard time remembering people, no matter how important they had been to him. They advised him not to force himself, or let others force him, into trying to remember things that happened. Overtime, he would regain his memory and they suggested that the best thing to do was to just continue on and take life one day at a time.

Arthur found the newly-discovered knowledge about his mental health a bit, well, depressing and spent the days after the news alongside the window. Nurses would file in and out, constantly checking up on him, and family, as well as friends would come visit as well. Although... There had been one person, who had failed to show up for two weeks... Alfred.

He didn't know why, but every time the heavy wooden door would push open, a part of him would fill with disappointment when it wasn't the peculiar American. Even though he had seen him for no more than thirty minutes, he still wanted to see him. It was a strange feeling and he tried to shake it away, but luck never seemed to be on his side.

A couple of days back Arthur believed that the American had broken his ignorance streak when a man who looked similar to him entered the hospital room.

Arthur had stared at the man for a couple of seconds, but when he came across the odd purple eyes, he knew that it was not him. He had a Canadian accent when he spoke, and he was rather quiet, which gave him a hard time understanding his words, but he did make out a few things. First, the visitors name was Matthew Jones and he was the younger brother of Alfred. Second, he had come on behalf of Alfred, but only to apologize for his brother's rude behavior. And third, he was hoping that they could met up after he was released (Matthew had a phobia of hospital's so the less time he spent in them, the better). After that, he left and wasn't seen again by Arthur.

The Englishman had also been visited daily by a preppy Italian who babbled on and on about pasta, and occasionally Alfred. Feliciano wasn't dense and he could tell that mentioning Alfred made Arthur uncomfortable, but he wanted to reassure him that no matter what Alfred would be there... Even if he was acting like a twelve year-old at the time. Sometimes the Italian would bring pictures of old times shared between the three of them and a muscular blond man, one who Feliciano had cleared up to be his husband. Other times he sat down and answered every question that Arthur had to ask, and he couldn't have been more grateful.

Aside from those two, and his family, another person who came to visit him was Francis. Arthur remembered him almost instantly. They had been childhood rivals growing up and couldn't stand to be more than five minutes together before they started to bicker. That wasn't the case, however. Once news finally got around to Francis that Arthur was awake, he rushed to the hospital to see it for himself. Although it went against their years of bitter hatred, Francis had broken down at Arthur's bedside and apologized for everything he had ever done. He made it evident that his life would not have been the same without his _Rosbif_, a term which earned him a smack in the back of the head, and that those past few months had been total hell.

After their first reunion, Francis made a knack of coming to visit him every other day to brag about some pointless thing that happened to him, or to invite him to beer when they finally released him. Arthur was excited, to say the least, that he had been invited out for drinks, it was one thing he absolutely loved (even though he was a terrible drunk).

Now, all Arthur had to do was stare out of the window. His eyes would deceive him and would land on the enormous pile of "Get Well" gifts. Apparently, while he was in a coma, the mound of gifts was even bigger, but they had managed to bring them all to his parent's house; they had volunteered to take care of Arthur until they deemed him well enough to "properly" continue on living alone.

One of the gifts always stood out the most; it was a teddy bear, similar to the one he had when he was growing up. There was something about the item that brought comfort to him, and even though he wouldn't admit it, he had slept with it every night.

"-land? Arthur?!" The Englishman blinked a few times and wiped away the tears that somehow managed to slip away when he was thinking. He then turned away from the window and toward the doctor that stood at the doorway.

"Sorry…" Arthur sniffled in an attempt to stop any new tears from forming. "I was lost in my thoughts…"

The doctor nodded kindly and sent him a comforting smile. "Well, I have good news!" Arthur cocked his head to the side and the doctor took it as a sign to continue. "I have gotten all your test results back and aside from your amnesia, you have absolutely no reason to stay in this dingy hospital room anymore." Arthur's eyes sparkled at the news, he almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. "That being said, I want to meet with you every two weeks to check up on your progress. One of the nurses recommended this." The doctor held out a royal blue notebook with one blue pen and one red pen hanging off of the front cover. Arthur thanked the doctor with a confused smile and the elder man just chuckled.

"It's to keep track of your memories. You use the red pen when someone tells you something you think is important, and you use the blue pen whenever you remember something yourself. Keep it with you at all times, it will help track your progress." The brit nodded as he toyed with the notebook in his hands.

"Thank you…"

"No worries… Also, I've contacted your parents, they are on their way new to pick you up." He then handed Arthur a drawstring bag. "They left this for you a couple of days ago, to put all of your things." His eyes then landed on the gifts that adorned the far corner of the hospital room. "I'm guessing you're going to need a bigger bag?" He joked.

. . .

Once again Arthur found himself staring out of the window, only this time, the scenery whizzed by in a blur of leafless trees. He sat in passenger's seat while his mother drove and blabbed on about how great it was to finally have her son back home. His dad had gone to work early that morning, so he couldn't pick him up, and Peter was at school so he wasn't there to bear their mother's never ending speech.

He found a bit of comfort in the fact that the farther they drove, the better he remembered the home that he had grown up in. while his mom continued to talk, he opened the notebook to the first page and grabbed the blue pen. _I remember the streets around my home. -1 March 2014_. He closed the notebook and drummed silently on the object. The action caught his mother's eager attention and she smiled.

"What's that poppet?" Grace asked as her green eyes flickered toward the notebook.

Arthur felt a wave of panic overcome his body and he couldn't help but shout. "Keep your eyes on the road, woman!" Grace gripped the steering wheel tightly and turned her attention back onto the empty road. Arthur's breathing was dangerously fast and his heart felt like it would rip out of his chest any minute. He choked back a cry after he managed to get his breathing under control and shot his mother a wide-eyed look. He didn't know what caused him to react that way when it was obvious that they were in no danger, but it scared him to think about it. "Please, don't do that again…" He whispered almost inaudibly. His mother nodded and they continued the car ride in uncomfortable silence.

. . .

"Artie! You're home!" Dylan cheered as his younger brother walked through the door. He ran over to him and grabbed the shorter man in a headlock as he ruffled the, already messy enough, mop of blond hair on Arthur's head.

"Dylan, cut it out!" Grace called when she walked in. She stood at the doorway and pursed her lips. "What are you doing here? Don't you work today?"

The auburn haired man shrugged and released his brother from the choke-hold. "Pops told me that Artie was being set free today so I called in a _family emergency_." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Do this _family emergency_ a favor and get my stuff from the car, you wanker." Grace frowned at her son's use of vulgar language and bit her lip when he stormed off in the direction of his room. After the door slammed shut, Dylan shot his mother a questioning look.

Grace sighed and threw her keys onto the marble counter top. Her hands massaged her temples as she spoke. "He's a bit… on edge. I was driving and I saw him write in that notebook that he has and I turned to him to ask him what it was for and he yelled at me and hyperventilated… he almost kissed the ground when he got out of the car." Dylan _ahh_-ed in understanding and went away to fetch the Get-Well gifts from the car.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the bottle of Gin from its place in the liquor cabinet. Her hand reached for three glasses and she poured the alcoholic substance into them. Then, she grabbed two and headed in the direction of Arthur's room.

The older woman knocked on the door and was greeted with a shaky breath and the words, _go away!_ Grace sighed and knocked again. "I said, _go away!_"

"Young man, don't you dare raise your voice at me like that again." Arthur stayed quite a bit and huffed.

"I'm twenty-four years old stop treating me like I'm a kid."

Grace scoffed. "I can't stop treating you like a kid if you keep acting like you're Peter's age, poppet!" She then took a calming breath and continued with a taunting smirk on her lips. "_Hmm… _I guess I'll have to drink this Gin all by myself."

"Are you sure that _I'm_ the one acting Peter's age?" Arthur murmured as he opened the door in defeat.

Grace shrugged and handed her son the glass as she took a seat on his old bed. "Show's how well I know my son." She took a sip of the liquid and sighed. The room brought back so many memories of Arthur's younger, and more rebellious years, and according to the notebook with freshly made blue scribbles, it brought memories to him as well. "Did you ever get that tattoo you kept bugging me about?" She asked when her eyes met with the electric guitar that hung on the wall.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head as he took a sip of Gin. "I don't remember getting any tattoos, and I haven't seen one on my body so I guess not." He took a mental note to add _tattoo_ to his notebook in red ink.

Grace giggled. "Figures you'd be too much of a wuss to do it."

"Oi! I am not a wuss. Or are you forgetting that I once got my nipples pierced!" Arthur huffed. Nipple piercing also made it's way onto his mental list under blue ink. It was so odd to him how he could remember things from his teenage years, and when he tried to think of the past couple of years it seemed like he was trying to solve a puzzle in a completely unfamiliar language.

Grace's loud, obnoxious, and slightly tipsy laugh snapped Arthur from his thoughts; as well as his older brother's chuckle. "I remember that." Dylan started as he dumped all of Arthur's gifts on the floor near the entrance. "You were complaining like a little twat for ages, and when they finally _healed, _you took them off and threw them away." This only fueled Grace's laughing fit and Arthur frowned as his brother left the room to retrieve his drink.

When he came back in, Dylan sat in the empty space between his mom and his brother. He chuckled at his brother's weak attempt to punch him. "You're lucky I just got out of the hospital or I would've already beaten you to a pulp, wanker."

"Hm… Doesn't that mean you shouldn't be having-" Before he could snatch the glass away, Arthur downed the rest of the alcohol, not even flinching at the burning sensation that nagged at his throat. "Nice Job, Artie." A loud _smack_ filled the air when Dylan congratulated his brother and their mother was suddenly snapped out of her train of thought.

"Don't hit your brother!" Grace scolded as she lightly tapped her eldest son's shoulder. Her eyes then landed on a clock that hung on Arthur's wall and she smiled. "I'm going to make a few phone calls…"

The brothers exchanged a curiously look as their mother ran off, but shrugged. "Well… guess who finally learned how to play guitar after twenty-six years!" Dylan shouted as he sprung up from the twin-sized bed and removed the electric guitar from the wall. Arthur glared at his brother, but let him continue his little antics. After all… it was great to be home.

* * *

"Alfred! Alfred! I have great news!" Matthew practically squealed as he pushed open the door to his, now shared, apartment. He dropped his keys on a nearby end table, and headed into the bedroom to find his older brother in deep sleep on top of the futon.

"Alfred…"

No answer.

"Alfred~!"

Silence.

"Al! Get up! I have something to tell you!" Matthew screamed, well what he would call a scream, into his brother's ear.

Alfred groaned and pulled the blanket high above his face. "Go away, I'm tired."

The younger brother raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "No, c'mon Francis told me the best news I've heard in a while."

At the mention of the name, Alfred shot up, only to end up head-butting his younger brother in the forehead. They both yelped in pain and rubbed their foreheads. "_Ouch_." Alfred breathed. "What were you doing with Francis anyways, dude?"

Matthew muttered something unrecognizable under his breath. "That is _not_ the point. The point _is_ that Arthur got his leave from the hospital this morning!"

Alfred opened his mouth to retaliate, but then snapped it shut. He chewed on his bottom lip for a bit and dropped his gaze to the floor. He had been such a _terrible_ person these past two weeks. Even after he promised to not give up he found that it was the only thing he _could _do.

Every day for the past fourteen days had been the same routine… He would leave work and walk to the hospital, which was only a few blocks down the road. Then he would greet Lovino, much like he had been doing for the past three months, and right when he reached the door to Arthur's room he would break down. His back would always find the same spot on the wall and he would slide down and silently cry for a few minutes until he would regain his composure. He would lightly bang his head on the wall a few times, careful not to catch the attention of the Brit inside, before finally standing up, muttering a few words of love and goodbye, and walking back outside to wait for Mattie to pick him up.

Alfred blinked away the tears that threatened to spill and sighed. "I… I have to see him." He finally admitted after about a minute of silence. Matthew's expression turned into a smirk. It was a rare and almost unwelcome action on the Canadian's face, and it brought a sense of worry into the mix of Alfred's emotions. "Mattie… what's that look about?"

"Lucky for _you_. We have been invited to the Kirkland's for a celebratory diner in…" The Canadian glanced at his watch and smiled. "Two hours, so get ready!" Alfred stared wide-eyed at his younger brother, who just flashed an innocent smile and chuckled. He opened his mouth to object, but Matthew had begun to throw random articles of clothing his way. "Go! Take a shower, you take forever to get ready."

* * *

**Who's ready for an eventful family dinner, I sure as hell am! I already started writing :D Hopefully i'll have it up in the next few days. This was s_upposed_ to be updated last night but my wifi dun messed up so I had NOTHING to do! But I got it fixed :D**

**As to a reply for a few of the commenters(the red squiggly line of death tells me that commenters is not a word *sadness*)  
Foofmeiester:** Thank you for reading sweetheart, and i'm thrilled that you like it! I try my best :D In regards to your interest on Arthur's accident, I plan to have only bits and pieces revealed at a time, along with hints here and there about what happened(***cough cough* like I did in the car scene with his mum*cough cough***), before I actually piece everything together and come right out and say it. **  
NamiLuvsFanFics:** No, sadly I have not been to Canada, I just so happen to live down in Florida *hehe wink wink* but a few of my family members lived up there and they said eh after almost every sentence, I got so used to it that for the entire time that they stayed over, I found myself saying it too and all my friends were annoyed of me! lol. My point is, I got a bit carried away with the _eh's _as I came to believe that they were a speech mannerism, but after rereading, I decided that It wasn't worth keeping all them _eh_'s, so i tweaked it and will keep it to a bare minimum. And no worries I did not find it offensive, it was helpful. Thank you so much, sweetheart!


	5. I Don't Want To Miss A Thing

**Okay so... I don't honestly know about this chapter, I've literally been nit-picky about it for _five _days! I just... I don't know there's something about it that bothers me. I even tried re-writing it a couple of times... I just i don't know... I hope at least you guys like it a little bit. I know that FOR sure they're a bt OOC if not completely OOC this chapter, but its blah. It's 12 am. and I'm STILL UP so it's updates for you guys :D**

**~~~Important Message!~~~ Okay So i'm thinking about changing the title of this story and I'm thinking Rewind. or maybe JUST Maps... If you agree with either of those, or have a suggestions please feel free to PM or comment it. **

**You are all now called my cupcakes... Enjoy, my cupcakes!**

* * *

_I could stay awake just to hear you breathing_  
_Watch you smile while you are sleeping_  
_While you're far away and dreaming_  
_I could spend my life in this sweet surrender_  
_I could stay lost in this moment forever_  
_Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure  
_

**I Don't Want to Miss A Thing; Aerosmith**

* * *

Part Two

Arthur yawned and stretched his body out across his bed, then snuggled back up into his Union Jack covers when a sharp pain shot through his skull. After a couple more rounds with his mother and brother, Arthur found himself in a half-dazed drunken state before he finally passed out on his bed. The man eyed his nightstand and smiled at the glass of water that sat alongside two pills. He sat himself up and pressed a hand to his forehead as he gulped down the pills and the water.

He sat in the same spot for a few moments before his eyes darted at toward the flashing red numbers on his bedside table. It could _not _have been that early. It was only five in the afternoon, he was sure that he had slept through at least a whole day. With a low groan, along with a rumble of his stomach, Arthur stood up and stumbled toward the kitchen.

His ears perked up when he heard his mother's laughter and his nose tingled when it was met with the smell of vanilla. That's when his eyes shot wide open, his mother couldn't bake to save her life; he remembered the many times that she almost burned down the house _just_ trying. The Brit found himself unconsciously running into the kitchen, nearly slipping on the wooden floors with his ankle high socks as he skidded to a stop.

Grace looked up from her mixing and frowned. From beside her came an amused chuckle... Wait Arthur _knew_ that chuckle. His looked up and his eyes met with Francis. The Frenchman sent him a lopsided smirk, but continued to add ingredients into the bowl. Grace, however, held a stern look on her features.

"Arthur, we have company." She said, her usual motherly tone had disintegrated into one of warning. Arthur opened his mouth to retaliate, but the woman raised an eyebrow and pointed the whisk in her hand at her son.

Arthur followed the gesture and looked down at his body, then up again as his face lit up into every possible shade of red. He quickly nodded and excused himself to dress appropriately. He was had always been one to sleep in boxers, but it was still embarrassing when someone other than his family saw him in them.

He settled on a pair of dark sweatpants and a Beatles T-shirt, and walked back into the kitchen, earning a groan from his mom. "Arthur! We have a guest, multiple guests actually and you're dressed like if you were going to a slumber party."

The Englishman blinked, but made no attempt to change as he walked into the kitchen and rested his elbows on a counter. "What are you making?" He asked the two as he disregarded his mother's comments.

"Cake!" She cheered, a new sense of excitement taking over her tone. "It's dessert for tonight's dinner."

Arthur nodded and grabbed an apple from the counter beside him. "And who else is coming to this dinner?" He asked after he took a bite of his apple. "Also when is it? I'm famished."

"It's a surprise, _mon am_i." Francis smirked mischievously as he refocused his attention on the batter. "Depending on what time it is, only a few hours now."

Arthur rolled his eyes and groaned. "Okay. But what are we having to eat?"

"Just go wash up, poppet. By the time you're done, the dinner will be over." Grace joked.

"_Oui_. I never thought someone could take longer than me getting ready, but Arthur has me beat." Arthur responded with a one-finger salute and stormed off to his room to get ready.

...

"Mattie! I don't want to go, dude!" Alfred muttered as he shuffled in the passenger's seat of Matthew's car. He was careful not to damage the bouquet of flowers that he bought for Grace in his tantrum and slid further into the seat when they pulled up in the driveway.

Matthew took a deep breath and straightened his sweater. His violet eyes shot Alfred an annoyed look as he unbuckled both his and his brother's seatbelts. Alfred frowned and toyed with the safety device. "Alfred come on! How old are you? You're acting like a child."

That's because I am a child. Alfred thought as glared at his brother. "I don't want to go, I'll drive home… call me when you want me to pick you up."

"Alfred F. Jones. You will get out of this car this instant or so help me…"

"Oooh, I'm _sooo_ scared." Matthew clenched his jaw and furrowed his eyebrows, a look that meant business and sent a chill down Alfred's back. The stubborn American huffed and exited the vehicle, followed by his smiling brother. One of the things Alfred found most bizarre about Mattie was his ability to give such a stern stare, that it practically forced you to what he asked of you, and smile, like nothing happened, right afterwards.

Matthew, after noticing that Alfred was going to make no attempt in the action, rung the doorbell and shuffled beside his brother. The two stood in silence for a bit until rushed footsteps echoed around the entrance of the home. A moment later, a small boy was at the door with a huge, contagious grin on his face.

"Alfie!" He shouted and hugged the American at the waist. Alfred chuckled and ruffled the young boy's hair.

"Hey, buddy! How ya been?" Peter, after happily greeting the man almost identical to Alfred and inviting the pair inside, began to tell Alfred about his school, and grades, and all the pointless drama that came with being a pre-teen.

Grace laughed silently in the kitchen. "Go on, Peter. Give the boy a break, he just got here!" She was putting the final touches on the meal and Alfred smiled. Arthur may have been a _decent_ cook, but his mother's cooking put almost anyone else's to shame.

Peter stayed quiet, but led Matthew into the living room with the others. The American smiled brightly when he pulled the bouquet of roses out from behind his back and presented them to the woman he considered to be like a second mother to him. When Grace saw the beauty of the flowers, she felt tears pricking at her eyes, but blinked them away as she rushed to get a vase to put them in.

"Thank you so much, poppet. They're lovely." The older women then hugged him and nuzzled her head into his chest. Alfred responded by resting his chin on her head, he couldn't help but notice that she was the same height as her son. When she pulled away from the hug she giggled. "I can see why Arthur likes that..." Alfred felt the blood rushing to his face and he looked everywhere except at Mrs. Kirkland. She shot him a look through the corner of her eye and smirked. "Well I should be done in a few minutes. The boys are in the living room watching movies." Alfred nodded, then shook his head as he pushed the sleeves on his Captain America jacket up to his elbows.

"Need any help, mom?" Grace froze in her tracks, but then smiled brightly at Alfred's word choice. She pinched the taller man on his cheeks, and hinted for him to set up the table.

"He called me mom." She whispered quietly to herself after he left. A smile danced wildly on her lips. In their four years of knowing each other, Alfred had never called her mom... She had almost begun to think that the word wasn't in his vocabulary.

"Who called you mum?" Arthur asked from his place at the doorway. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyebrow was raised in a questioning manor.

Grace cleared her throat. "Um, nobody. I'm just crazy... A crazy old British lady..." Her response only caused Arthur's gaze to harden. "Hm... Why don't you...?" Her eyes brightened. "Why don't you go get me my rag from the dining room? I seemed to have left it there when I was setting up the table." For added effect, she patted her cooking apron and shrugged. Arthur nodded slowly and made his way into the dining room. That woman surprised him more and more each second he was awake.

Alfred hummed lowly to the beat of one of the songs he had heard on their way to the Kirkland's. He even found himself dancing around to the tune that rung in his head as he laid out eight sets of plates. He had to find some way to ease his nerves, and this just happened to be one of his favorite methods. He even went as far as to use a fork as a makeshift microphone as the words actually began to flow from his mouth.

From the doorway, Arthur watched in amusement as the blond danced and sung, quite terribly, around the dining room. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the doorway as he tried his hardest to suppress the smile that poked at his lips.

**Who that? Who that? I-G-G-Y**

After Alfred finished setting up the table, he turned back toward the kitchen and stiffened as his face began to heat up. "I... How long were you in here?" He brought a nervous hand to the back of his neck as a deep chuckle escaped the back of his throat.

Arthur shrugged. "Long enough to know that you have a terrible singing voice, and the dance moves of a three year old." If possible, Alfred's blush grew deeper and he stared awkwardly at his feet.

"Sorry, I guess I got a bit carried away..."

"You think?" He chortled as he unfolded his arms and lightly brought a fist to the taller man's shoulder. Alfred let a loose smile free as the Brit walked past him and hoisted himself onto a wooden table at the back of the room. "You know. I'm starting to think mother didn't send me in here for a rag..."

Alfred grew nervous once more and ignored the Englishman as he finished putting the cups on the table. Arthur cocked his head a bit to the side as he watched Alfred's frantic behavior. Was he always like that? He made a mental note to ask him after diner when, hopefully, he would be calm enough to properly answer him.

. . .

The thick silence brought the diner's ambiance to a low level. Metal forks clinking on ceramic plates ricochet around the four walls of the dining room and a wide array of glances were exchanged. Mrs. Kirkland stared at her husband with worry on her features and he nodded, as if to assure her that he had everything under control.

Oliver cleared his throat, causing seven pairs of eyes to land in his direction. "So, Alfred." The American squirmed in his chair at the mention of his name, and stuffed another forkful of food into his mouth. "How's work going for you?"

Alfred swallowed the food in his mouth and looked down at his plate shamefully. "I uh… I'm actually between jobs right now… Mattie's helping me while I get back up on my feet." Matthew glared at Alfred for the use of his nickname, but felt a blush creep on his cheeks when everyone momentarily eyed him.

Oliver raised his eyebrows, but nodded. Alfred had a very well-paying job as self-defense class instructor down at the local gym not too long ago. It had actually been a few weeks before Arthur's accident that he got it, and he kept it for a while after, but soon his mood swings had started to get worse so he quit before he could end up inflicting pain on anyone.

After that, the room fell silent once more. Alfred was the first to finish his diner and he excused himself to go and wash his plate. No one objected as he stood up from the chair, but Arthur excused himself shortly after and followed him into the kitchen. He set the plate on the counter and let out a long breath as his fingers intertwined with his mop of blond hair.

"You look… troubled." Arthur whispered when he walked into the kitchen. Alfred's gaze shot up and he blinked a few times, but shook his head. He didn't want Arthur there, but at the same time he did. "Well, you're going to have to talk to me sooner or later, Alfred."

_Alfred._ God! It had been too _damn_ long since his name rolled off Arthur's tongue like that. It almost melted all his troubles and anxieties away… _almost._

"I-uh… I..." Alfred's gaze met with his sneakers for a few seconds and then he glanced up, catching soft green eyes in his caring blue ones. "We need to talk."

Arthur scoffed. "I just said that, idiot. Are you sure that _you're_ not the one with amnesia." It was a sad and pathetic attempt at a joke, Arthur knew that, but when he saw Alfred's lip quiver up that tiny bit, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Alfred drummed on the counter top, and sighed. "We… used to date…" Arthur let out a faux-gasp. The American narrowed his eyebrows. "Wait... You knew?"

"Anybody in their right mind could figure out that we used to have **something** together. I mean, whenever you see me you get all flustered and nervous and your eyes twinkle like bloody crazy." As if to prove his point, Alfred's cheeks tinted a light pink and Arthur chuckled. "See?"

"Yea, yea..." Alfred huffed as he tried to regain his composure. "What do _you _think about it?"

Now it was Arthur's turn to grow nervous and flustered over a question. "About what?"

Alfred stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked the floor playfully, then sighed. "Y'know. A relationship... Our relationship... Me... Anything..."

It was as if, at that moment, every word Arthur had ever learned ceased to exist. He only swallowed the lump in his throat and bit his lip. He knew that these next words were going to break the younger man before him, but they had to be said. "Alfred. From what I can tell, with the less than two hours I've spent in total with you, you are a great guy... But I don't think I can bring myself to start a relationship with you..."

Afraid to look up, Arthur kept his gaze locked on the tile before him. Alfred, on the other hand, sported a look of utter bewilderment. There was no traces of hurt, or guilt, or hatred... Only nostalgia.

"That's... That's exactly what you told me when I first asked you out." His whispered was barely audible, but it penetrated Arthur's eardrums like a drill. His breath hitched and his eyes shot up.

"I... I did?"

An over-exuberant smile replaced all traces of seriousness from Alfred's visage as he nodded like a hyperactive child. "Yes! Yes it is! And then I said, you never know unless you give it a go, and you laughed -yeah, just like that- and you agreed to go bowling with me!"

"Is this your way of asking me to go bowling with you?" Arthur chuckled.

"Well... It's kind of my way of asking you to start over. I've been thinking... And since I can't really force you to remember anything, I was wondering if you kinda wanted to relive our relationship, from square one?" The entire time he spoke, a layer of sincerity masked the coat of worry in his tone and not once did he break eye contact with Arthur.

The Englishman stared into the pools of blue before him. Nothing could've prepared him for what Alfred had just said and in all honesty, he loved it. He wanted nothing more than to, once again, get to know the strange, attractive, and slightly hyperactive man in front of him. He tried to ignore the blush that grew on his face and the nervous knot that grew in the pit of his stomach.

"And if I say no?"

Alfred smirked. The look in Arthur's eyes told him that no matter what he said, he was going on a date with this man. Without another word, Alfred pulled his hoodie over his head and then slipped it onto Arthur. The Englishman felt his cheeks warm up at their closeness and at the goofy smile that made a home on Alfred's lips.

"If you say no, I'll still need to come pick up my jacket."

"_Aw!_ Ohmygod! That is so bloody cute!" Grace peeped from the doorway. Alfred and Arthur quickly took a couple steps away from each other, both of their face's glowing bright red. From behind her, the rest of the Kirkland's along with Matthew and Francis, groaned at her for ruining their spying.

* * *

**And done! As always let me know of any spelling errors. I'm out, for now. maybe one more update tonight... _maybe_**


End file.
